The night before the big day there were many protocols to follow. No food after midnight. Brush my teeth, my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Wash my hair in the shower, and wash my body with an antibacterial soap sponge. Dry with a clean towel, put clean jammies on, and get into a bed with clean sheets. In the morning, repeat brushing my teeth etc, shower without washing my hair, washing with the special sponge, dress in clean loose clothing, pack up my gear and head to the hospital leaving at 6am.
So here is where I am blessed. My new knitting friend got up at the crack of dawn and drove me to surgery. Not even my family members would have volunteered to do that even if they lived close by. It was such a relaxing drive, I arrived calm and wishing my day was over, but the difficult part was about to begin. My friend offered to wait with me but I knew that the prep and tests would keep me occupied.
First I had dye injected directly into the cancerous cyst. Then while I waited for my turn to have Sentinel Node Imaging (cat scan) the TV screen announced the arrival of baby Archie Harrison son of Prince Harry. What a great distraction!
The cat scan was a minor inconvenience. The technician would not let me fall asleep. What's up with that? I had been up since 5am. At 8am I was allowed to drink 12 ounces of cranberry juice to keep me hydrated and it also helped my sugar levels.Then upstairs I went to the surgical ward. I changed into a special paper suit, put long cotton socks on and paper slippers and put my gear into a locker. Then I waited for an empty recliner chair. Once I hopped up on it, they plugged me into a blow dryer which filled my paper suit up with warm air and made me all warm and cosy. It was fabulous. I was hooked up to monitors and drips and since surgery was delayed an hour, I got a chance to make a quick pit stop before it was my turn on the table.
During the wait, my surgeon came over and reminded me the scar would not look like a smiley face and then a marker was used on my shoulder to indicate the side the mastectomy would happen. I also met with the anesthesiologist who I immediately pegged as being Scottish. It turned out he was from Aberdeen just miles from where my mother grew up. I knew I was in good hands!
My turn came. I scooted onto the table and the entire surgical team, was asked to turn, look at me and greet me by name. Again, I was in good hands. Then supersized blood-pressure like cuffs were placed on my thighs and gentle massages began to aid the blood flow during my 75 minute surgery.
Night night.
So here is where I am blessed. My new knitting friend got up at the crack of dawn and drove me to surgery. Not even my family members would have volunteered to do that even if they lived close by. It was such a relaxing drive, I arrived calm and wishing my day was over, but the difficult part was about to begin. My friend offered to wait with me but I knew that the prep and tests would keep me occupied.
First I had dye injected directly into the cancerous cyst. Then while I waited for my turn to have Sentinel Node Imaging (cat scan) the TV screen announced the arrival of baby Archie Harrison son of Prince Harry. What a great distraction!
The cat scan was a minor inconvenience. The technician would not let me fall asleep. What's up with that? I had been up since 5am. At 8am I was allowed to drink 12 ounces of cranberry juice to keep me hydrated and it also helped my sugar levels.Then upstairs I went to the surgical ward. I changed into a special paper suit, put long cotton socks on and paper slippers and put my gear into a locker. Then I waited for an empty recliner chair. Once I hopped up on it, they plugged me into a blow dryer which filled my paper suit up with warm air and made me all warm and cosy. It was fabulous. I was hooked up to monitors and drips and since surgery was delayed an hour, I got a chance to make a quick pit stop before it was my turn on the table.
During the wait, my surgeon came over and reminded me the scar would not look like a smiley face and then a marker was used on my shoulder to indicate the side the mastectomy would happen. I also met with the anesthesiologist who I immediately pegged as being Scottish. It turned out he was from Aberdeen just miles from where my mother grew up. I knew I was in good hands!
My turn came. I scooted onto the table and the entire surgical team, was asked to turn, look at me and greet me by name. Again, I was in good hands. Then supersized blood-pressure like cuffs were placed on my thighs and gentle massages began to aid the blood flow during my 75 minute surgery.
Night night.
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